Government

Territory Overview

This desert territory is the forward base of the Periwinkle Air Force and is famed for it's vast beaches and neon-filled cities. After Periwinkle left it was temporarily renamed "Great Aurantiaco" (I know, right?) but was recaptured from Orangered and restored to it's former glory. The area holds two major PAF bases and several naval forts, and is a key point in the defence of southern Chroma, protecting the Island of Warriors, Metropolis Daja and Viper's Peak from attack. As a result, defences here are always on high alert, especially due to it's status as a famous former orangered territory. Despite this, Viridian Union is an easygoing place generally, and many of it's citizens consider themselves proud Periwinkles.

Viridian Union is known for its beaches, its art deco, and its night life. The cities shine with neon in the twilight hours, often considered to be the best time to visit the cities in VU. A vast variety of cocktails can be consumed at the numerous bars here, as well as beers from Vermillibrews and, for the non-alcoholic tastes, Tang and freshly squeezed orange and lemon juice. in the north, the savannah has been adapted for farming, whereas the deserts provide large reserves of oil and gas.

Viridian Union contains two of the PAF's largest bases, A large naval fort as well as shipbuilding facilities, and the home of the Viridian Union Royal Marine Corps (lead by /u/Lolzrfunni), It's own special forces unit (Led by /u/ian_moore).

This territory may also be referred to as Vermillion Union, as both Vermillion and Viridian are acceptable ways to refer to this territory.

"F-22s are securing the airspace. Tankers are already up, and A-10s are ready to launch from Snooland as soon as the battle begins. We have Orangered radar signals detected, but they seem to be keeping their aircraft firmly on the ground."

Lolz R. Funni checked the radar screen, that showed Vermillion Union in the centre. Periwinkle aircraft were swarming over the territory, but so far not a single Orangered aircraft had shown up. On the ground, there wer vehicles lining up on both sides of the border.

"Hey, Cortez! Get yer tank division going-they need to be lined up and in camouflage for the start of the battle!"

Snapping his field goggles up, Cdos hammered on the roof of the mobile artillery piece he was riding atop.

"Yessir?!" the eager commander called as his head popped up from the hatch.

"Son, order the company to halt and assume firing positions."

"Yessir!" the artillery jockey beamed, then ducked back below to radio the orders.

Cdos dismounted as the massive vehicle ground to a halt. Struts extended from either side and anchored the chassis into the ground, preparing to absorb the tremendous recoil. The huge cannon tracked upwards and locked, the evil snout focusing on the sky.

Pilot Officer John Roberts was currently at 30,583 feet above Vermillion Union. His Typhoon fighter was responding well to his every touch. He was just waiting for the command to be ready to attack in his state of the art fighter.

"Platespinner 1-1, this is Bobster 1-1, going in for attack run. We need all fighters cleared out, fast"

The sounds of battle began to diminish as the overall intensity of the fight waned. Cal watched through binoculars as the Reds began to fall back from their lines in fairly good order, showing some disarray, but not anywhere near the level they had in the past. They're getting some piss and vinegar back in 'em, he thought to himself. This war's a long way from over.

Cal turned to look over at Shea's tank. She, too, was popped up out of the tank commander's hatch, sitting on the opened hatch with her canteen in hand. He waved, caught her eye. "Dana, take Second and Third and move on up there," he called over, pointing to the ridge the ORs were leaving. "Keep 'em headed the right way." She nodded, dropped her canteen into the turret, hopped down off the hatch, and waved back as the tank lurched off. Moments later, he heard the troop radio channel come alive with Shea's voice, relaying the orders to the relevant platoon leaders. He watched her tank work its way up the hill with something akin to concern, even as the two platoons backing her up followed. He suspected there wouldn't be a time, not at least while this war still went on, that he wouldn't be concerned for her.

Evans tapped his leg to get his attention. "Hey, Captain, sir? We're down to three HEAT rounds, maybe twice that in sabot. Think maybe we oughta go get more?" he said with a casual grin. At the same moment, Knight popped up in the loader's hatch with a pout. "Yes, sir, and Evans sat on my Stetson, the shit." Cal looked down at the gunner, who grinned, shrugged, and turned back to the ammo count. Cal looked over at Knight, shrugged, and tried really, really hard not to smile.

He failed.

Knight crossed her arms, threw a disapproving glance at her commander, then broke up laughing. "You're buying me a new one, Connor!" she said into the intercom, "Or I swear to the gods I'm telling your mom!" She said the last part over the radio, on purpose. Guffaws erupted from nearby tanks. Knight was capitalizing on the long-standing story that Evans' mother had called his drill sergeants while he was in basic when he'd written her a letter about how difficult the training was. Somehow, word had gotten back to the unit after he'd shipped in, and he'd never lived it down since.

"Uh-oh, Evans is in deep shit again!"

"Evans, what'd you do now?"

Other, similar comments echoed over the radio for a few moments. Cal looked at his gunner, who it appeared was trying his hardest to hide inside his CVC. Finally, he put his hands up in mock surrender. "OK, OK, jeez, Lil!"

Smugly satisfied, Knight looked at Cal and winked with a smile. The girl - she was hardly more than that - was too darned cute to be a soldier, but she was one of the Troop's best, and could always be counted on to get a laugh out of even grim work. It wasn't appearance. It was attitude, and she suffered no lack of that. Cal considered himself lucky to have her as a loyal and steadfast trooper, and knew that many in the unit considered her a sister.

He looked at his turret crew, then said over the intercom, "Specialist Anders, get this beast moving over to the replenishment area so we can refuel and reload." The tank lurched as Anders, the driver, shifted into gear and began the drive towards the resupply point. Once moving, he keyed the Troop-wide radio. "OK, now that we've got that critical issue settled," he said with a smile in his voice, "Once we're done with the resupply and can get a satisfactory

status

report from the other two platoons, we'll move up and relieve Shea to come back and do the same. Got it?"

The radio echoed acknowledgements as the other two platoons fell into a rough formation back to the resupply area. Despite the bumps, bruises, sweat, and exhaustion, Cal relaxed as he rode. The day was theirs.